


And We created you in pairs

by ArouraVellichor



Category: Original Work
Genre: Asli knows the hallucination isn't real, But only if you squint, But that doesn't stop her from wanting it to be, Closeted Character, F/F, Gothic, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, I wrote majority of this in three days, I'll change it, I'm a Catholic Australian I don't know what I'm doing, I'm submitting this to procrastinate on my Ancient History homework, Inspired by a Hozier Song, Kurdish Character, LGBT, Muslim Character, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining, Please tell me if something is incorrect, PoC, Sapphic, Short Story, Sort Of, Written for a Class, brief mention of something that could be sex, hijabi main characters, honour killing, not that you can tell, queer Muslim main characters, set in turkey, story starts at a funeral then context is given, yeah one of them dies sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25783936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArouraVellichor/pseuds/ArouraVellichor
Summary: Asli mourns for the loss of her beloved. But she may not be as far away as she thinks.





	And We created you in pairs

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my friend for proofreading this and telling me about Muslim beliefs/cultural practices. This would have been a much worse story if you hadn't.  
> Having said that we only went over this for an hour or so while I was still writing it so if I did stuff up, please let me know and I'll edit this and change it.

A white shroud covered her body, five pieces of cloth to wrap up everything that ever mattered to Asli. The imam’s voice was a buzzing drone, the verses drifting in and out of Asli’s awareness, barely making it through the fog in her mind. The Janajah was a surprise to everyone, adding fire to the flames of rumours spreading from old shopkeeper’s wives in the bazaar, wrapped in bright scarves, hands busy while they gossiped. Asli fiddled with the ends of her hijab as she listened, the fabric frayed without Viyan to stop her from picking at it. 

“Did you hear what happened to Baran’s daughter? Such a shame”

Such a shame. 

…

Asli jolted awake, sweat rolling in waves over her brow and neck. Harsh breathing and a thundering heart filled the silence of her suffocatingly cramped house. Shadows seemed to leap from every crevice and crack, dark wood and intricately patterned rugs morphing to suffocating fingers. She closed her eyes again and waited for her heart to no longer feel like it was going to leap from her chest before opening them. Her room slowly came into focus, the silhouette of her dresser a hulking beast in the corner, a comforting childhood evil. A childhood she shared with Viyan. Two months and she was still thinking of her every waking hour. Everywhere she looked she was reminded of her – the kitchen where they baked kurabiye together, dark coffee the shade of her eyes – even the sheets held the lingering scent of her. Asli caught sight of her jacket hooked on the back of her doorhandle. She had bought it a few years ago while visiting family in the big city. For months after that trip she obsessed over running away, finally telling Viyan her plan in a quiet corner of a tea room. To her surprise she didn’t laugh it off, just nodded and said “one day”. Asli sighed and nestled deeper under the covers, letting herself pretend it was the early hours of morning and Viyan had just left, intent on meeting her again on the outskirts of the village. 

…

A sound pierced the night, high pitched and silvery, a ringing bell, stifled by a sudden gale whipping through the trees. It harmonized with the wind, caressing the fir trees under the luminous glow of the moon. A call. A voice. 

Her voice. 

Time seemed to freeze. Asli was suddenly aware of every sound, the settling of the old house, the crickets trilling in the undergrowth, her heart thundering beneath her ribs. Waiting. Hoping. 

The wind died down and an owl cried softly from a nearby tree.

She released her breath, head spinning after too long without oxygen. An owl, of course. To have heard her voice would have been impossible, it was merely her grief, so strong she was hallucinating voices where there were none. 

Asli remembered walking along the outskirts of town with Viyan, intent on avoiding her father, when Viyan almost leaping into her arms as a barn owl flew across their path and onto a broken tree branch. Asli had just laughed, airy and light.

“Don’t be scared, it’s just a barn owl.”

“In the middle of the day?” Viyan gave her a reproachful look “It’s a sign Asli. I’m not sure what of, but it’s a sign” 

Asli had brushed it off at the time as Viyan being superstitious but now she wasn’t so sure. How long had Viyan known her fate? Did she go home each night to see her brother and know he would be the one to kill her if her family found out about them? 

Asli sunk back into her bed, trusting that sleep would deaden the swirling storm of emotions for a few hours.

…

The second time she almost didn’t hear it, muffled by both her pillow and her own thoughts. She paused again, convincing herself again that it was only an owl, mocking her with Viyan’s voice. 

“Asli” 

That she couldn’t deny, no owl could mimic a voice that well. Asli leapt out of bed, pausing to grab her jacket and keys and hastily wrap a scarf around her head. She scrambled down the old stairs and flung open the door, rounding the corner and skidding to a halt in the dirt.

Viyan.

She was standing stock still next to Asli’s beat up old car, still wearing the same long skirt and violet hijab as she had the last time Asli saw her. The last time she saw her alive that is. She looked tired and her skin was a sickly ashen grey like she’d barely slept in the last two months since her own funeral. 

But she was there.

Against all logic and reason, she was there, solid as the stone under her feet. Asli hadn’t realised that she had rushed forward until she collided with Viyan, crashing into the car. She only focused on the realness of it all, the scratch of Viyans belt on her wrists, the tickle of her hijab on her cheek, and the intoxicating scent of her perfume, cloying and comforting.

When she pulled back from the embrace she realised Viyan’s skin was icy under her fingers, spurring her to wrap her jacket around her shoulders before unlocking the car and opening the passenger door, where a duffle bag with the necessities – clothes, money, passports – was stowed safely in the back.

“You ready to get out of here?”

Viyan gave a sly smile and slid into the seat. 

Asli grinned, still giddy from the adrenaline rush, and started the car. She began idly chattering to Viyan about flowers that grew in alongside the road - cyclamen, mock orange, oleander – watching their colour emerge as the sky lightened with the rising sun, making small talk about what they were going to do once they got to the big city, Viyan occasionally commenting. A glimpse of normalcy. 

The conversation lulled and Asli took a deep breath and asked in a sudden burst of bravery, “How did you do it? I mean, I was at your funeral, I watched them bury you.” Tears pricking her eyes, she risked a glance at Viyan who had paused, her mouth hanging open, words half caught in her throat, before focusing back on the road. “I mean how did you get out of that alive, did you fake it?” The weight of her question came rushing over her all at once. It was always an unspoken agreement that Asli and Viyan had their own secrets that neither wanted to share with each other, much less the rest of the town. A boundary that was set when they first met, never broken, was now being pushed when it was most vital. They trusted each other, both knowing how dangerous it could be if they didn’t. “I mean you don’t have to tell me right now. Or ever really, I was just curious.” Asli paused and glanced over at Viyan who was smiling at her, distant and sad, splintering something inside her. 

“I don’t think I could ever tell you in words how much I missed you.” She said softly, eyes on the road to keep Viyan from seeing the tears blurring her eyes. “But we - we’re here now and that all that matters. Right?”

She reached her hand over to take Viyan’s but only met the scratchy surface of the seat. Still trying her best to keep her eyes on the road she waved her hand around where Viyan’s leg should be, only brushing her jacket. Her heart leapt into her throat and she whipped towards where Viyan should be, seeing only her jacket crumpled in the seat. Time ground to a halt as Asli felt her heart thundering in her ears. Her vision blurred again before clearing and she realised she was crying, eyes fixed on the grey upholstery. She was vaguely aware of taking her feet off the pedals and she must have rolled to a stop too because she couldn’t feel the hum of the car underneath her. She couldn’t feel anything.

She finally tore her eyes away and saw that she was in her driveway, engine switched off and no trace of Viyan except for the lingering scent of perfume. Asli forced herself to take a deep breath before sinking forward onto the steering wheel. Again? How many times has this happened? How many times will she fall for it? Asli sat up and raised her eyes to the greying sky, watching the dawn rise. Perhaps a new day would bring solace. To both her and Viyan.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is very much appreciated. Like I said in the tags, I have no idea what I'm doing and am I will edit any slip-ups/just plain wrong bits.  
> Also please teach me to write good.


End file.
